


Four Times Eli Hugs Atlas and One Time She Doesn't

by Blackrising



Category: The Elementalists (Visual Novel)
Genre: Atlas is a soft gay disaster, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Incest, Making Out, Sibling Incest, Sister Complex, Twincest, teeny tiny bit of smutty feelings, that's is that's the story, there is talking and there are feelings and smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackrising/pseuds/Blackrising
Summary: “I would have chosen you. Would choose you. Everytime. I love Mom, my parents, our friends – but you’ll always be the one I love the most.”- OR -Atlas does a lot of thinking, Eli does a lot of talking, and somewhere in the middle they meet for hugs and feelings.
Relationships: Atlas Ernhardt/Main Character (The Elementalists)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 50





	Four Times Eli Hugs Atlas and One Time She Doesn't

**Author's Note:**

> Atlas has a sister complex and no one can tell me otherwise. I've also booked my ticket to hell ages ago and twincest is basically nothing at all to me. (Hey, at least I didn't throw G!P A/B/O smut at everyone right away. I feel like I deserve some credit for that.)

The first time Eli hugged her was on her birthday. _Their_ birthday.

She’d spent the entire day thinking about the note, what it might mean, which one of Eli’s so-called friends was a traitor, how to get them out of this whole damned _mess_ – she hadn’t even thought about what time of year it was. In truth, Atlas hadn’t thought about her birthday ( _theirs_ ) in a long time.

Being on the run, something as simple as birthdays, or Solstice, all the little and big celebrations she’d experienced with her foster family before everything changed, none of it had had any meaning.

She’d missed it sometimes, when she’d spent yet another cold winter night hiding away from her pursuers.

But it hadn’t mattered. Not the way keeping Eli safe had. Did.

When Eli’s friends (the _Pend Pals_ , dear lord) had jumped out to surprise them – and what a bad idea it was to surprise Atlas – and had then consequently gone and just accepted that their friend had a secret twin sister she’d been hiding in her bedroom for weeks, Atlas had accepted that she maybe, _possibly_ had been wrong about them.

They were ridiculous, foolish oafs the lot of them, but they seemed to honestly care for Eli. It was easy between them, so easy for Eli to dive into them and so very easy for them to celebrate their friend with laughter and affection and something about it _twinged_.

Not hurt. Atlas wasn’t the type to get sentimental and hurt for things she never had, of course not.

But the twinge in her gut didn’t go away. Not when she watched from the sidelines as Eli made the rounds like a queen holding court, her smile easy and infectious in a way Atlas’ would never be, not when Eli stopped halfway through a disgustingly colourful drink to seek out her eyes as if Atlas might have disappeared when she wasn’t looking, not even when she pulled Atlas in, into her world, to play some dumb party game.

The party lasted longer than was wise. Atlas considered leaving, now and again, considered going back to Eli’s room to sit and wait. She felt more comfortable there, in the dark, than in this brightly decorated space with strangers watching her and pretending they weren’t.

But Eli sought her out, now and again. Included her. Wanted her there, to celebrate _their_ birthday. And Atlas stayed.

By the time all the cake had been eaten, all the games had been played, and all the fireworks had been set off, Atlas felt less like an intruder. She’d forgotten about the strange knot in her belly, almost, until Eli brushed past her to have a quiet conversation with the Mistry girl.

Atlas grimaced. She’d seen those smiles and glances a lot in the past few weeks and while it wasn’t her area of expertise, much less an area she felt comfortable with, she knew very well what they meant.

The thought of spending the night alone in Eli’s room, with Eli there but walls apart, was not as appealing as it should be.

It reminded her of many many nights spent shivering and cold. Of living only to the next day in pursuit of a goal that seemed more fiction than reality at times.

It reminded her of the difference between being alone and being lonely.

Eli turned as if feeling Atlas’ stare and came to join her, the lop-sided smile still on her face, even though it wasn’t returned.

“If you’re gonna let me have your room to myself tonight,” Atlas said, dismissively waving a hand at Shreya. “You better not wake me up in the morning to get your stuff or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Eli huffed out a laugh at the threat, though Atlas couldn’t find it in herself to mind how little effect it had on her. Not much, at least.

“You wish. I’m not going to let you steal my bed. You’d just leave on your boots and get dirt all over the sheets.”

The knot underneath Atlas’ ribcage unfurled, just a bit, and she looked around to realize that Shreya was gone. Off to her own room, alone.

“Hey, Atlas?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for doing this. You know, dealing with all of them. I know it’s not your scene, and you didn’t have to play along with it all, but you did. So, thanks. For staying.”

Eli’s grin was just for her, this time. Open and unguarded and Atlas almost wanted to shake her for being so goddamn trusting and sincere, as if it wouldn’t break her back in the long run. As if Atlas hadn’t watched her through waters and mirrors and mist and been willing to do damn near anything so her sister wouldn’t lose that.

“Whatever,” Atlas grunted. “Wouldn’t put it past them to accidentally fling you off the tower.”

Atlas had exactly one and a half seconds to get annoyed at the way Eli shook her head – fondly and indulgently because of course she didn’t believe any of Atlas’ posturing – before soft arms wrapped around her middle in a sudden embrace.

The instinct to flee and fight kicked in immediately and Atlas flinched before going stock-still. It had to feel like holding a log in her arms, but Eli flattened her palms against her back anyway, resting her chin gently on Atlas’ shoulder.

She never tightened her hold, never went beyond the lightest pressure of hands, and slowly, consciously, Atlas let the tension in her shoulders fade.

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched her without the intent to hurt her. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged her. Years ago. When her caretakers had still been alive.

The warmth of Eli’s body shifted, but instead of moving away she simply turned her head, whisps of brown locks brushing against Atlas’ jaw.

“Happy birthday, sis.”

The twinging in Atlas’ gut faded, faded, and then disappeared.

* * *

The second time, Atlas barely felt it over her bruised and battered body.

Blood magic. Raife. Hurt and death and Eli’s friends, hell, _their_ friends, lying in unconscious heaps on the floor. Hopefully unconscious. Atlas couldn’t think about the alternative, and not just because her head was bleeding and her mind was fuzzy, but because she knew she’d do it all over again.

Because Raife was gone. Dead. Atlas had made sure of it with her own two hands, had done what she’d been prepared to do for so many years. Because Eli shouldn’t have to.

And because Atlas had sworn to herself that she’d do whatever it took to keep her sister safe.

“Atlas-“ Eli stopped as she slumped down next to her, a heavy breath releasing with a woosh. “Atlas.”

Hands appeared at Atlas’ face, cupping her cheeks and turning her away from where she’d been staring at the empty space left in the wake of Raife’s demise.

“Are you okay?”

Their eyes met, and for the first time Atlas became aware that her hands were trembling, that her entire body hurt from the various blows and wounds that had been inflicted on it. She was used to this, to fighting and hurting, to knowing that it meant she got to live another day.

“Are _you_?” she asked in return.

The power they’d wielded together had faded into a low hum and exhaustion was taking its place. Eli had fought well, being able to deflect and defend herself from most of Raife’s attacks, but the dark smudges underneath her eyes couldn’t distract from the bruise blooming on her jaw or the way she kept weight off her right leg.

Eli didn’t answer. She stared at Atlas for another moment and pitched forward, winding her arms around Atlas’ neck in a crushing hug.

A part of Atlas still wanted to jerk away, but the tiredness and pain had her unable to react beyond letting it happen. It made the wounds on her body smart, blotting out the novelty of the warmth of another human being so close. Of Eli being safe and near.

“We did it,” Eli whispered, burying her face into the crook of Atlas’ neck. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

There was a hitch in her voice, like she was crying or holding back tears, and above all Atlas cursed Raife for doing this to them in the first place. Cursed him, and Dean Swan, and their parents, and all of them that had separated and kept them apart, kept Eli in the dark about who she was and what she would have to fight against when she was older.

Neither of them should have ever had to shoulder this burden.

“He’s gone. You’re safe. Your friends, too.” Atlas swallowed at Eli’s tight hold around her, unfamiliar and alarming but more comforting than anything else would have been at that moment.

“So are you.”

Atlas tried to scoff at the sentimental tone, to tell her sister that she was fine, that she’d always been fine, but it came out shaky and flat. The truth was, it hadn’t hit her yet. That she didn’t need to run or hide anymore, that right now she had Eli, and she had a sort-of group of friends, and that if she wanted to stay here with Eli for another few minutes or hours, nothing would come at them to try and kill them.

Eventually, with Eli’s warm breath fanning against her neck, the trembling of Atlas’ hands stilled.

* * *

The third hug was a careless, casual gesture.

Despite everything going on with Kane, despite the falling-out they’d had over their mother, despite their magic going haywire and all the reveals that had followed, they’d made it through. Things went back to normal amidst all the chaos, just long enough for them all not to go insane at the prospect of yet another fight for life and death.

The Pend Pals were all gathered at Penn Square for what Shreya had titled ‘a Mistry-certified Emergency Shopping Extravaganza’, which, from what Atlas could gather, just meant they were all supposed to buy a shit-ton of useless trinkets and somehow forget about everything else.

It certainly seemed to work for Shreya, who was flitting from stall to stall with a sparkle in her eyes and a loose wallet while the rest of them trailed after her with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Ohh, Atlas, I found something for you!”

Zeph came running with his fist closed around a small object, opening his hand to reveal a tacky little pin saying ‘don’t talk to me’.

She stared at him, entirely unimpressed.

“If you press it, it sends out a little shockwave that pushes people away!” he tried again.

“Tempting. But I don’t need a pin to do that.”

“It’s true,” Eli chimed in, coming to stand next to Atlas and grinning at her. “You scared the last guy who tried to talk to you so badly he won’t even look at _me_.”

Atlas frowned. “What guy?”

“The one who approached us after training with Alma last week.”

Atlas wracked her brain trying to remember who they were talking about. She remembered walking out of the Sun-Att classroom with Eli, talking about this and that, and she remembered watching her sister as she talked. She had a way of doing that – expressive and bright where Atlas usually kept to a more minimalist approach.

She’d thought then that Eli fit in well there, in the middle of the day and flushed from practicing her magic, with the sun shining down on her. _Pretty_ had been the word running through Atlas’ head. They were twins, unmistakably so, but Atlas had learned to see the little differences between them – a small mole underneath Eli’s eye that Atlas didn’t have, the slightly different slant of their mouths, the way they moved and acted and existed in entirely separate ways – and in that moment she hadn’t seen _herself_ or even her _twin_.

Just Eli. And yes, she’d thought to herself that Eli was definitely the prettier one out of the two of them.

But then that guy had approached them and looked at her sister like he was having the exact same thoughts and Atlas might have glared daggers at him until he ran with his tail tucked between his legs.

“Me?” she spluttered. “I thought the dude wanted to talk to _you_.”

Eli laughed and lightly shoved at her shoulder. “I doubt it. Sorry to break it to you, sis, but people _will_ hit on you. Must be the sexy hair and that ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. Although the leather jacket probably doesn’t hurt either.”

Atlas almost reached up to touch said hair before thinking better of it. “What- shut up!”

Eli’s laughter grew louder and she leaned in to sling an arm around Atlas’ shoulders in an unexpected and casual display of affection. The side of her body pressed into Atlas’, no longer the hesitant touch of a year ago, and it made something in Atlas’ chest patter against her ribcage.

She wasn’t a hugger, never had been. Much less someone who encouraged or even accepted random displays of affection. But Eli thrived on physical contact, frequently touching and hugging her friends, who saw nothing wrong with squeezing Atlas in public just because she felt like it.

And somehow, it felt…okay. Good, even.

It felt like something Atlas could get used to.

“Don’t worry.” Eli leaned close to whisper into her ear, amusement turning her voice warm and sweet. Like she was sharing a secret with her. “I know you’re a total softie deep underneath that steely shell.”

Atlas’ hand rose of its own accord and for a moment, she allowed it to rest on her sister’s waist in a poor imitation of reciprocation. Eli’s skin was warm even through the fabric of her shirt, always warmer than Atlas would be.

And then she shoved her away with a grunt and a roll of her eyes. “Shut up. You…you suck.”

She walked away with Eli’s giggling in her ears before Zeph had a chance to call for a group hug or something equally as ridiculous.

But the phantom sensation of warmth underneath her palm remained.

* * *

The fourth time it happened, and Atlas never realized she’d been counting until that moment, it was strange and different.

It had been a weird couple of days. Solstice being just around the corner, she and Eli had been presented with an entirely new problem neither of them had ever thought they’d had to deal with.

Theia – their _mother_ , Atlas pondered with something akin to dizziness – was back, alive and with them, and it meant there were logistics to figure out, plans to make on where and how to spend the holidays.

It was never a question that Atlas and Eli would stay together, not to Atlas and not to Eli. They’d been separated nearly all their lives and now that they’d found each other, they weren’t about to stray too far. Atlas wasn’t about to let go. And she could admit that the over-protective streak she’d developed before Eli had even known about her played a part in it, because sometimes she still had nightmares about it all – about being unable to protect Eli. About losing her.

Not that she’d ever admit as much to anyone.

So in the end they had decided to have joint family holidays, with both Theia and Eli’s adoptive parents celebrating with them. Atlas didn’t know if any of them had felt as awkward about it at first as she had.

At some point, while going through that awful phase of introducing and getting to know Eli’s caretakers, Atlas had caught herself likening it to meeting her girlfriend’s parents and had quickly squashed the thought.

What she hadn’t been able to push aside was the knowledge of what was missing from the scene. Gregor and Ingrid. The people who’d raised her, who had been her parents as much, even more so, than Theia might ever be.

Her first time celebrating Soltice without them in the picture had kicked her night terrors into overdrive.

And then, one night, as she was seeing images, flashes, of her caretakers lying dead in pools of blood, of the Pend Pals broken because she couldn’t stop Raife, of Eli choking with Kane’s fingers around her neck until the last breath had left her body-

One night Eli was there.

“Atlas.”

The whisper barely reached her, not until it was joined by a touch to her shoulder that had her bolting up from her sweat-soaked sheets. She moved purely on instinct, driven to fight and claw by the adrenaline pounding through her veins, and grabbed the person leaning over her.

Atlas slammed them down onto the mattress with force and held them there with a white-knuckled grip around bare arms.

She blinked, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Eli?” she rasped. Her voice was hoarse from crying out in her sleep, barely audible after having just woken up even though she knew she couldn’t have been asleep for longer than an hour or two.

She wanted to ask what the hell her sister was doing in her room, but the abject worry in Eli’s eyes was explanation enough. Atlas had always hoped to keep the rough nights under wraps, but they’d shared a room often enough that Eli had to be aware of them.

And this time, the nightmares had been bad.

Eli carefully, hesitantly, reached up to wipe a sweaty strand of hair out of Atlas’ eyes. The gesture was tender, and strange, and it felt far too intimate in the dark stillness of her bedroom. It made Atlas uncomfortable – mostly because it _didn’t_ , to make a paradoxical emotion worse.

She jerked her head away, but didn’t move beyond loosening her trembling grip on Eli’s arms. “Stop that, weirdo. I don’t need you getting all mushy on me.”

Eli’s teeth gleamed white in the dark as she smiled. “I’m your sister. I’m _allowed_ to get mushy on you.”

_Which is the entire fucking problem._

The impulsive thought didn’t make it past Atlas’ lips, if only because her arms were shaking from holding herself up and the images of her dream still sent cold shivers down her spine.

Eli must have felt her tremble because the smile dropped from her face to be replaced with something soft and caring. It almost hurt to look at her, for reasons Atlas didn’t want to think about.

Hands reached for her again. They slid around her sides to press against the middle of her back, tugging softly, questioningly, until Atlas’ elbows gave out and she sank down into her sister’s embrace for lack of energy to do anything else.

Atlas’ head came to rest on Eli’s chest, breast to stomach and the tips of her fingers barely brushing against the bare skin of Eli’s upper arms.

It was embarrassing, and humiliating, and Atlas relaxed into the comfort of it anyway. It was easier, here in the dark. With a strong heartbeat thumping underneath her cheek and her face tucked into Eli’s neck.

Gentle fingers traced imaginary patterns onto her back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Atlas wanted to cry, or run, she wasn’t sure which.

All she knew was that Eli was here, and she was warm, and she held Atlas like she didn’t judge her for this, like she didn’t need her to be strong right now, like she was perfectly content to lie here with her twin sister in the middle of the night and let Atlas sleep on her like she was a child.

The urge to cry was starting to win out until Eli suddenly chuckled above her.

“Atlas…are you wearing your _jeans_ to bed?”

The vulnerable moment of before was broken, replaced by something Atlas was more used to. And, thankfully, something that didn’t make her feel like she’d break at any second.

“Hey, it’s comfortable,” she grunted against Eli’s neck. “And I’m used to it.”

She’d spent so long sleeping in her clothes, including her jacket, it would feel weird to lie down in anything less.

“I’m gonna give you some new sleeping clothes for Solstice,” Eli continued mirthfully. “I think pink would suit you. Maybe something fluffy?”

Reflexively, Atlas moved to pinch her sister’s side, eliciting a sharp squeal and a sudden jerk from the body underneath her. She smirked and did it again.

Her fingers slipped.

This time, as Eli bucked in protest and her shirt rode up with the movement, Atlas found her hand suddenly and inexplicably sliding until it was curled around Eli’s ribcage. Too high up. Too close.

It shifted something within Atlas. Something monumental.

And where until now the hug had been strange but comforting, innocent, she was now aware of Eli’s heartbeat thumping quickly inside her chest, of the bare skin underneath Eli’s shirt, underneath Atlas’ _hand_.

She was aware of their position in a way she hadn’t quite been before.

“You’re not playing fair,” Eli said, mock-accusingly. She didn’t move away. Because it wasn’t _strange_ for her, was it? “I can’t defend myself if you’re pinning me down.”

The flush that wanted to spread up Atlas’ neck at the words, at the mere _implication_ , was unwelcome and she squashed it firmly. For a short moment, she wondered if her voice would come out hoarse, if somehow Eli would be able to tell that Atlas hadn’t moved her hand away because she _couldn’t_ , because moving would draw attention to it, because she couldn’t deal with the awkwardness.

Because she didn’t _want_ to move it.

Didn’t want to let go of that small, burning space where her palm was connected to Eli’s ribcage. Like a fucking moth to the flame.

“If I find so much as a hint of pink anywhere in my room, I’ll spell all your clothes black,” Atlas said, too aware that her voice _was_ rougher than it should be to her own ears.

Eli chuckled, and her breath brushed over the top of Atlas’ head. “I’ll take it. For once, _I’ll_ be the tall, dark and handsome one.”

Her hand returned to Atlas’ back, just resting in the space between her shoulderblades. Her skin was warm, too warm, against Atlas’ hand, against her back, against her torso – patches of bare skin and breasts and thighs warm and soft underneath the covers and suddenly Atlas didn’t trust herself.

Not like this. Not in the dark and with Eli still so worried and tender and _pretty_.

With a derisive snort, Atlas used what strength hadn’t been sapped from her to push away and roll off Eli. Her sister. _Her goddamn sister_.

“Do what you want,” she grunted, the tone even harsher in the darkness surrounding them. “I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

She turned her back on her and laid very still. She didn’t want to see Eli’s reaction, whether she’d be smiling fondly because she assumed Atlas had gotten embarrassed or whether she’d be trying to cover a twinge of hurt at the dismissal.

Most of all, she didn’t want to look at Eli. She didn’t want to realize that the sudden spike of heat in her blood had been more than a one-time thing, more than a mistake born out of vulnerability and the darkness of night.

“Goodnight, sis,” Eli said, nothing more, and then Atlas felt the shortest pressure of lips on her cheek.

The door opened, and closed, and Atlas was alone once more.

Sleep did not come until the sun began to peek over the horizon, and when it did, the night terrors were replaced with a different sort of terror – one brought on by sunlight and warm skin and questing fingertips on her body.

When Atlas woke, it was with Eli’s name on her lips, her hand buried between her legs and something dark and guilty gnawing away at her insides.

* * *

The fifth time, the most important one, was a hug that wasn’t one.

To Atlas’ immense surprise, they’d survived the holidays none the worse for wear and with no one attempting to kill them or drain their power. Just her, and Eli, and their combined family in one place.

And if the word _family_ had Atlas flinching nowadays, she prefered not to acknowledge it.

Of course there was that bit with the ghost of a child locking them in an abandoned villa to do its bidding while they’d been attempting to enjoy a calm winter holiday with their friends, but considering all the other shit they’d gone through in the last year and a half, lonely ghosts were a downright walk in the park.

In the end Atlas supposed they had helped a child find peace and they all wound up back at the Mistry Home - Villa? Mansion? Chateau? Atlas found it hard to keep track of rich people nonsense – with another adventure under their belt.

And during all the chaos and snowball fights and Soltice celebrations, Atlas had almost forgotten why she’d been keeping Eli at arms-length. She couldn’t avoid her, least of all because Eli would never let her. It might be near impossible for Atlas to look at her without wishing, without _wanting_ , but she’d never be able to bring herself to stay away.

Atlas had always considered herself sneaky. She knew how to hide and how to disappear, and she knew how to stay unnoticed.

She knew how to be subtle.

Yet somehow, it didn’t surprise her to find Eli waiting for her in her assigned room after the Pend Pals had dispanded for the night.

“Hey, sis,” Eli said, sitting at the foot of Atlas’ bed with her hands braced on the edge as if she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome. In truth, Atlas wasn’t either. The sight shouldn’t throw her, but it did, and it made her want to tell Eli to get out and stop getting her germs all over her bedspread.

Childish, maybe, but it would get the job done. It would stop Eli from sitting there, on Atlas’ _bed_ , clad in nothing but an old nightshirt that bunched at her thighs. And maybe it would stop Atlas from wanting to tug that shirt higher until she could see what was underneath.

“Your room’s two doors down.”

Eli didn’t react to the dismissal, instead shifting in a way that had Atlas’ eyes darting down to the smooth skin of her legs. “You know, I had fun tonight. Playing ghost-wrangler with everyone. With you.”

Atlas didn’t dare move nearer. “Are you keeping me from sleep just to tell me that?”

Her annoyed tone didn’t bother Eli, didn’t make her scramble to get away and find more pleasant company. It never had.

“It felt like you were avoiding me, after our family Solstice,” Eli said. Her smile was stead-fast, but strained, the tips of her fingers digging into the edge of the bed. She was so different from Atlas in every way, so bright that sometimes Atlas forgot that Eli saw a lot more things than she let on. “So, it was nice to spend time with you.”

“Even in a haunted house?”

“ _Especially_ in a haunted house. At least when you don’t end up breaking your legs.”

Atlas rolled her eyes. Granted, that bit of parcour had been a failure, but Zeph had dared her and Eli had told her not to, so of course Atlas _had_ to do it. She didn’t back down from a challenge, especially not when Eli was watching her with concerned green eyes. Concerned for _her_ , of all people.

She wondered, suddenly, if maybe that night when Eli had appeared in her bedroom hadn’t been the start of all this. If maybe Atlas had always had that wrongness inside her, had always watched Eli with hungry eyes and it had just taken an accidental slip of her hand to realize it.

Eli had moved off the bed without Atlas noticing, walking towards her on bare feet until she stood close enough to touch.

“You know, I really do like your jacket,” Eli mused then, and Atlas frowned at the sudden change of topic.

“What?”

“Your jacket.” Eli reached out with both hands to run them along Atlas’ collar, tracing the line of the zipper down to the hem before letting them rest lightly against the leather. Atlas’ hearbeat picked up speed. Too close. “It suits you.”

“Well, you can’t borrow it.”

Atlas stumbled back a step, only to find Eli following her. Every inch she put between them Eli closed before the distance could take hold until, eventually, her back bumped against the wood of the closed door and there was nowhere left to go.

“Your hair, too,” Eli said. Whispered. Atlas couldn’t tell if her voice had gotten quieter or if she simply couldn’t hear over the rushing of blood in her ears as her sister reached out once again, this time to run her fingers through the silver strands of hair at her temple.

They brushed against the shell of her ear, just barely, and Atlas shivered.

She peered into Eli’s eyes. Open. Unconcerned. Untainted by the thoughts running through Atlas’ head, the images of Eli naked and covered by a body far too similar to her own, the fantasy of her voice crying out a name it shouldn’t.

And suddenly Atlas knew that she’d fuck it up, given the chance. One more moment and she’d ruin everything, drag herself down into a hole she’d never be able to get out of, all because Eli’s face was too close and her hand was still in Atlas’ hair.

“Eli,” she said, and could hear the raspiness in her own voice. “Stop. I need to…” _I need to not think about what you taste like._ “…go to bed.”

“Okay.”

The response went all but unheard because Eli was moving in and Atlas could already see the hug coming, knew that at any moment she’d feel her sister’s arms wrap around her – except now it would hold a different meaning to Atlas, become something more than innocent, more than _family_ , more than what Eli wanted to convey.

She waited and braced herself, drew in shallow breaths – and then stopped breathing at all.

Lips had come to rest against hers. Feather-light, soft and barely brushing against her skin. The hug was not a hug, not at all, because Eli was kissing her. It was barely a peck, barely more than platonic, but Atlas stood frozen and numb until her sister pulled away.

Eli cupped her cheeks in both hands and it felt like the only thing holding her upright. “Atlas, you can be so _damn_ oblivious sometimes,” Eli said, sighed, her breath hot between them. For the first time that Atlas could remember, her sister looked apprehensive. Nervous.

She’d seen her scared, even terrified, she’d seen her anxious before a big Thief game or an exam – but she’d never seen her so quietly timid.

“I don’t-“ Atlas started to say, but then Eli was tugging her forward and kissing her again, pressing against her, into her, and this time there was nothing platonic about the way she moved her mouth against Atlas’, lips hot and pliable and hungry.

This time, when they separated, the wet sound of their lips parting echoed in the still room.

“Eli, what are you doing?” Atlas’ voice sounded as weak and dizzy as she felt, none of her bravado left as she hung in this moment with the memory of her sister’s lips burned into her brain.

“You know, I keep putting it in your hands,” Eli chuckled, a breathless and flustered sound. She had only moved back an inch and Atlas felt the words hovering between their mouths. “Flirting, touching you, trying to show you-“ She stopped, then, shaking her head. “But you never take it.”

Atlas heard the words, but they didn’t make sense to her addled brain. It wasn’t adding up, none of it was, and she had to be wrong about what she was hearing. She had to be.

“You never stopped watching me, either. Watching out for me. Protecting me. Even when I thought you were just a mirage in the mirror, or something to fear, you were keeping me safe. And you didn’t even _know_ me then.”

There was a tinge of something in Eli’s tone, something like gratitude, like wistfulness, and Atlas grew hot and cold all over. The place in her chest that had been expanding by the moment grew still and froze.

“No, Eli. You don’t need to do this. You don’t need to indulge me,” she hissed, throat constricting around the words. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Not her presence, or her hugs, or her kisses – none of the things Atlas so desperately wanted, not as long as it was born out of something as sickening as _obligation_. Instead of answering, Eli pressed her face into the crook of Atlas’ neck.

Just like Atlas had done weeks ago on that night in her bedroom.

“ _Completely_ oblivious,” her sister muttered.

She pressed a kiss to the column of Atlas’ throat, right onto her hammering pulse point, and Atlas couldn’t so much as draw a breath at her next words.

“I wanted you to kiss me. Back in your bedroom.”

Atlas could only listen, with trembling hands balled into fists at her side.

“Before then, too. Everytime you put yourself between Kane and me. After…after Raife. Maybe even before that. I wanted you to kiss me so badly.”

“I’m your sister,” Atlas croaked in response. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to point it out when it was so obvious in the first place, when neither of them needed to bend to look into the other’s identical eyes, when their magic mingled and mixed in the air even now. Two sides of the same coin, as closely interwoven at the very core of them as two people could possibly be. “You…you want to be close. It’s the connection. Our magic. But you don’t- You can’t want to…”

It felt like a last-ditch effort even as she said it. If Eli stepped back now, if she told her that yes, that is what she wanted, for her and Atlas to be close, to be _sisters_ like they hadn’t been allowed to be for years, then they could pretend.

Atlas wouldn’t go back to avoiding her. She’d push down her feelings, even if it killed her. And eventually she’d forget, or get used to it, and it would be like neither of them knew what the other’s lips tasted like.

Eli drew back. She wasn’t smiling or grinning, the green of her eyes almost entirely swallowed by black, a flush working its way up her neck. The sight of that flush was hypnotizing and Atlas couldn’t tear her eyes away until she felt her sister’s hand take a hold of her own and raise it between their bodies, pressing Atlas’ palm flat against her chest.

Atlas’ hand twitched above where she could feel the rapid beating of a heart. Eli’s heart. Nervous, or embarrassed, or just excited, it thumped against Atlas’ touch in a hard staccato, almost startling enough to distract her from the soft swell of Eli’s breast underneath the bottom of her palm.

“I know,” Eli said, and shook her head at the same time. “I know you’re my sister. And I love you like family.” She continued quickly, before Atlas could attempt to jerk her hand back. “But not _just_ like family. Not just like a sister.” Her smile returned, sheepish as it contrasted with her drawn-together brows. “I’m _attracted_ to you. Sometimes I want to just sit in your lap. I want to run my fingers through your hair. I want your hands on me. I want you to push me up against a wall somewhere and…- I want a lot of things.”

“Maybe you’re just a narcissist.” Atlas had wanted it to break the thick tension surrounding them, enclosed them in a bubble, but Eli’s voice had gotten low and breathy as she talked and the heated shudder crawling down her spine made it come out much weaker than Atlas had intended.

Her sister leaned in again, barely an inch seperating their mouths from coming together in another kiss.

“Do you remember after we had that fight about Mom? When you told me it felt like I was choosing her over you?”

Atlas swallowed hard. She remembered. The ache in her chest at the thought that, somehow, if Eli had to choose between never finding their mother after she’d abandoned them, and losing Atlas, her sister wouldn’t choose her.

That everything Atlas had done for her wouldn’t matter because she may be family, but so was Theia. That she was neither less nor more important than any other part of Eli’s newfound blood family.

Because she’d wanted Eli to choose _her_. Above anyone else. And now Atlas knew that this, these feelings, definitely hadn’t started just a few weeks ago. They had always been there, lurking underneath the layers of protectiveness and magic and a poor pretense of sisterly affection.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Eli pushed even closer, their bodies melting together head to toe and her dark eyes darting quickly from Atlas’ eyes to her mouth and back again. “I would have chosen you. Would choose you. Everytime. I love Mom, my parents, our friends – but you’ll always be the one I love the most.”

It was the proverbial straw to break Atlas’ back.

She surged forward with a groan of defeat and kissed her sister – kissed her back – for the first time. A part of her still waited to be pushed away and told to go and not come back, but Eli only reached up to bury her fingers in Atlas’ hair and pull her as close as she possibly could, bending back just enough that Atlas’ hands shot out to grab her by the waist.

The kiss was hard and fast, almost bruising, and the feel of Eli’s lips crushed against hers sent Atlas’ head spinning.

Eli was the first to open her mouth, a heady whimper escaping her throat. The fingers Atlas had wrapped around the curve of her waist tensed, tightened, and it would be too easy to tug at the bunched fabric and pull Eli’s sleeping shirt higher until she could touch bare skin.

The press of their lips changed. With parted lips and the barest flicker of tongue, though no less hurried. Eli’s arms were wrapped around Atlas’ neck now, and it still wasn’t a hug so much as it was an embrace, tight and keeping them close together even as Eli’s tongue finally slipped into Atlas’ mouth, along her own.

It was coaxing and hot and slick.

Her arms were the only thing that anchored Atlas, the only thing that stopped her from eviscerating the borders of this new ground between them by pushing her sister to the floor and ruining the expensive rich people nonsense carpet that looked more and more inviting by the minute.

She drew back enough to take Eli’s bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, like she’d wanted to for longer than she’d known. Eli moaned into her mouth, then, rough and needy, like she wanted it, genuinely _wanted_ it as much as Atlas did, and Atlas gave up trying to have it make sense in her head.

It was no use anyway. Not when the insistent pulsing in the pit of her stomach kept spreading, when all she wanted was to carry her sister over to the bed and keep going until there was no space in either of their heads for any thought beyond kissing and touching and heat. Until they’d worked off the list of things Eli had said she wanted, and then some, even though Atlas knew that it couldn’t happen tonight.

Not yet. Maybe not ever if Eli did the sensible thing and changed her mind in the morning.

Eli seemed to know it, too, because their kisses slowed, became soft and languid, until eventually Atlas could bear to pull away.

Neither of them moved out of the embrace.

“What…” Atlas had to clear her throat to make herself be heard over their laboured breathing. “What happens now?”

She didn’t like having no plan of action, didn’t like being so lost on where to go and what to do next. She always had a plan B, always had a thousand courses of action in her head to solve any particular, often deadly, problem. But this time, there was nothing.

“In the morning,” Eli answered, the tips of her fingers lightly scratching along Atlas’ scalp and causing her skin to erupt into goosebumps. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. For now, I should probably go back to my room.”

Atlas didn’t like that idea any more than she liked not having an idea at all, but Eli placed another gentle kiss on her mouth and continued.

“Everyone else is just down the hall. And if I stayed here…I’m not sure I could keep my hands to myself.”

And when she grinned - that same flirty confidence in it that she always displayed, except now it was directed at Atlas and wasn’t that just a fucking headrush – Atlas realized that an uncharacteristic flush had started to crawl up her neck and face.

She abruptly let go of her, though she still had nowhere to go when Eli leaned up to her ear and whispered, “Or maybe you’re more worried about where your hands might end up?”

“Get out.” Her sister only laughed when Atlas shoved at her shoulder and forced her a couple steps back. She missed the warmth of her body immediately, but damn her to hell if it wouldn’t take an extensive amount of torture for her to admit that.

She suspected Eli could already tell, anyway.

“Alright, alright. Goodnight. I love you, sis.”

The words had been said before, but the meaningful look she gave her as she brushed past Atlas, the hand trailing along her stomach and hip that lingered too long – it was a clarification. And a promise.

“I love you too,” Atlas breathed out, and fuck her if it didn’t sound like she was on the verge of pulling her back and letting all their friends hear whatever they may.

Just before she slipped out, Eli stuck her head back through the doorway.

“So, does this mean you’ll wear the pink sheep pajamas I got you for Solstice now?”

The harmless spell Atlas threw at her head bounced off the wood of the hastily shut door, and the laughter that Atlas couldn’t find it in herself to mind because it sounded happy and _free_ rang in her ears even as she slumped down hard on the edge of her bed.

Where Eli had sat not too long ago. Before...all this.

Atlas thought she could almost imagine her warmth lingering there, in this spot, before she let herself fall back with a quiet groan. She couldn’t say that she felt entirely right in the head after tonight, or that she wasn’t waiting for Eli to come to her senses, or that it no longer felt wrong to want her own twin sister like she’d never wanted anything or anyone else.

But a weight had been lifted from her.

That dark, guilty mess that had been stewing in her head and in her chest had faded, replaced by the memory of Eli’s words and touch. And not a small amount of that was due to the arousal still running rampant in Atlas’ veins making her ache and remember every noise Eli had made, every miniscule movement of her body under Atlas’ lips and hands.

She brought one hand up to cover her eyes, imagining she could still smell Eli on it.

In the morning, she’d said.

They’d figure it out in the morning.


End file.
